Fifi Turns Ten and I'm Still Probably Going to Hell

Happy Birthday to Fifi, who turns 10 today! And without further adieu, here is an inappropriate and likely offensive letter to her:

Dear Fifi,

You're 10! I cannot believe how times flies, or more importantly, how extra extremely old I feel to have a child who is ten years old. #damnshithell. It's all about me.

Thank you for not driving me too bat shit crazy last night at your first official sleepover, although we only had 3 girls over, and two went home at 11 PM. You weren't too obnoxious, only mildly, and I didn't once have to tell you to turn that music down. Because you didn't play any, thank god, but you did watch some annoying teenie bopper shows at a louder than normal level, but since you were all sitting nicely on the couch rather than running around like savages, I let it go.

I was kind of concerned when I overheard you all playing truth or dare, and the dare was having the person make out with the giant stuffed giraffe in the living room. You're welcome for me posting that for all the world to see, and it will probably cost you a very lucrative career as a CEO or Presidential nomination, or at the very least a date with the football quarterback in high school, unless he's into things like bestiality, then you're really welcome.There may even be footage of said making out with giant stuffed giraffe, but I'll save that for a particularly important blackmail event like when you try to extort me to pay for your wedding or when you threaten to tattoo the bestiality loving quarterback's face on your buttocks.

I am very proud of the amazing young lady you have become. Smart, beautiful, intelligent, mature, loving, kind and generous. (I did not steal that from the Natalie Merchant song. Swear.) Even though I still question your choice of tights to wear on the first day of school that slightly resembled stripper pantyhose. Please do not become a stripper. Not that I'm knocking the profession, I know those girls can make an insane amount of money. I just have bigger ideas in mind for you like lawyer, hostage negotiator, united nations representative, preeminent news anchor, or you know, international burlesque show superstar. Aim high.

xoxo,
Mom

#gotherownstyle

Don't Judge Me for Judging

I know, I know, I know. You're going be thinking, 'What about the old adage that says don't judge a book by its cover?' Believe me, I know! 

But I couldn't help myself today. I don't always make fun of people's appearances. Half the time I look like a cracked out person of Walmart, so I should know better than to judge others for how they look.

While picking up Fifi at the end of her after-school activity, I pulled in front of the school and parked while waiting. There was a man who, I assume, was a teacher or school employee out front waiting with some kids and helping them find their ride. 

I guess he pretty much was a normal man, except for the greasy slicked back hair and suspicious pencil mustache. He had a rotund pot belly and his clothes were worn and dumpy. And I'm sure I'm totally going to hell for this, but I couldn't help think 'why is that child molester being allowed to not only work with children, but be alone with them at after school activities?'

Jesus. H. Christ. He had a badge and everything, but that doesn't mean shit in this day and age. Just yesterday I heard on the news about a local school district where a teacher was arrested under allegations of inappropriately touching students at the elementary school where he worked. The same elementary school had another teacher who was convicted of molesting students about a year prior to this newer accusation and that teacher is serving 62 years in prison  Don't they do motherfucking background checks? Or do these sick predators wait until after the background checks to start attacking their prey?

Talk about some sick fucks. You can't even send your kids to school nowadays without worrying about these freakshows. No wonder I'm predisposed to assuming all odd looking little men are pedophiles.

So I'll do my best to try and not judge people by their appearances. Maybe a tall glass of red wine will ease my tension. But these assholes are out there- so stay vigilant, my friends...

The most interesting man would totally judge everyone
 because he is so much better than the rest of us. I love him.

More Reasons Wiener is Gay

Perhaps I'm teasing too much with this subject and Wiener will murder me in my sleep one day, but I can't help myself. Some things are too good to keep to myself:

• He has a penchant for watching figure skating. And women's gymnastics.

• He's watching The Birdcage, right now. Unless you're reading this at a later date, then he's probably not watching right now. Or maybe he is.

• We were talking about Kevin Spacey being a good actor and he said "I know he's not as good looking as Brad Pitt, but he's a great actor." I said, "I don't think Brad Pitt is all that good looking." Wiener replied "Really? I think he is beautiful. Especially in Meet Joe Black." (I smirked at this and tried not to bust out laughing and Wiener said "that is going in the blog isn't it?" --> Correct)

• He made rice crispy treats with Cinnamon Toast Crunch cereal. When eating a piece he said "these are good, but it's better when they are rock hard." (TMI)

• He tuned to video on demand and said, "Oh look, Magic Mike is available now!" 

Is it the sexy moves...

Or the matching costumes?

What Not to Wear to a Funeral

Putting together an ensemble for a funeral is nerve racking. You want to be appropriate and respectful, yet presentable.

Unfortunately, I am attending a funeral this week for a dear old family friend. Thankfully, I have not been in this dilemma too often. I have experienced my share of loss, but luckily instances have been few and far between. I'm not sure if this means I'm blessed to be surrounded by healthy people or I don't have any friends so I can't lose to death what I don't have.

So here's my dilemma... I am fair skinned and blonde. This presents a problem for me in picking out funeral wear. Black and gray are not flattering on me. I know most people, even blondes, swear by a LBD (little black dress) but black has always just been harsh on me. Now I know a funeral is not all about me, I do have some manners, but I prefer not looking like an Addams' family member while paying my respects.

Also, what shoes do you wear? I can't wear heels without falling, but I have an assload of wedges and espadrilles. Are they appropriate? Should you wear open toed shoes? Do I have time for a pedi? These seem like petty questions at a time such as this.

I don't want to look like I'm going to a business meeting either, but I do have a black suit jacket. And wool slacks. But it's summer in Texas so I would be sweating like whore in church for reasons other than the usual ones.

Buying something new just seems like a waste. Or perhaps it's tempting fate to have a 'funeral outfit' as if I'm asking for more people to die just so I can wear my special outfit. On the other hand, I have an old black dress with red and fuchsia rosette flowers that I could wear. It is very matronly. There go my chances of getting laid. Wait, I said funeral, not wedding. Also, I'm married. Dammit.

Interestingly, figuring out what to wear is not my only dilemma. Apparently, I have all sorts of issues.

Not to make light of a somber event, I do have a hard time expressing myself seriously in emotionally charged situations. I have a tendency to make bad jokes or say inappropriate things. I don't like people to be upset or be sad or cry- it's against my nature. Unless they're my children and I'm yelling at them or threatening spankings. I guess I use humor to deflect from dealing with difficult emotions or uncomfortable situations.

Case in point: The last funeral I went to was for another family friend I had not seen in many years. When I saw the decedent's husband, I hugged him, smiled and said "Hi. It's been a long time. So, how have you been?" Epic Fail.

With that in mind, I am nervous about going to the service later this week. My mother has already asked me to be prepared to offer to bring food over for the family if they need it. When she told me this I responded with, "Oh, like bring food to the house if they have an after party?" Oy vey. 

The white glasses makes this ensemble tres chic and funeral appropos.

Reasons Fifi Will Need Therapy

Today Fifi turns 9. Holy shitballs, how did I get this old? If you're keeping track, Devil Baby turned 3 a little over a week ago.

Their birthdays are about 11 days apart. My estimated due date was September 6 for Fifi and September 5 for Devil Baby. Wiener's sperm are quite punctual, I suppose. I actually went into labor on my due date at 11pm with Fifi and she was born the next morning. Maybe that was a foreshadowing of her anxiety about being late for things.

With Devil Baby, they induced me on August 27. They said it was because my stomach was too little and she had no more room to grow. The hell? My standing theory is that she was due on Labor Day weekend and the doctor didn't want to miss his golf game. But enough about the Devil Baby who came along and stole all the attention and sleep.

Back to Fifi: Our parenting style has always been ultra unorthodox. It probably has more to do with me wanting to do things my way instead of by the book, because I'm controlling and neurotic like that. That said, some of our techniques and things we allow may come back and royally screw us in the form of hefty therapy bills.

Probably due to this, Fifi has developed a slew of irrational fears most likely brought on by our over protectiveness of the first born, or as a result of our questionable parenting techniques. You be the judge.

1. While other toddlers were watching Baby Einstein, Fifi was sucking her thumb and intently watching scary movies like 13 Ghosts with her dad. To this day, she likes scary types of movies and shows. She has passed on her penchant for the bizarre to Devil Baby who loves "spooky doody doo" and all three of them love watching The Walking Dead.

2. She is overly fascinated with true crime and medical shows. Once at a party, all the adults were talking and she hissed "SHHHHSHH!" She was watching Snapped and she couldn't hear all of the autopsy details.

3. If she falls asleep while watching shows like Bones and CSI she always asks me the next day "who was the killer?"

4. Whenever she whines about doing a chore or task I tell her, "If you don't like it, get your shit and get out." (That line was stolen from a friend, but I think it is an excellent solution to whinny or disobedient kids.)

5. When she was a toddler, she would hide in clothes racks at stores. No matter what I said, she wouldn't stop. One day I told her a story about a boy who hid from his mommy in clothes racks and a bad man kidnapped him and cut off his head and threw him in a canal. She never hid in clothes again. #morereasonsimgoingtohell

6. She loves the shows Man, Woman, Wild and Dual Survivor. Though she's intrigued by their survival skills, she has a lingering sense of abandonment like we're going to drop her in the jungles of Cambodia with one match and a handkerchief and say "See you at home- good luck!" Maybe there is a recurring theme here. Perhaps too much tv is taking place?

But I think deep down her fear has brought on a sense of maturity, responsibility and intelligence beyond her years. She has a clear plan outlined in the event of a tornado warning and has the foresight to bring water and snacks into the closet.

She will either need decades of therapy or she'll become a forensic scientist. Also, when the zombie apocalypse hits, she'll be the leader of the new world and celebrated for her bad-ass survival skills and zombie killing prowess.

Happy Birthday Fifi! 

WTF Mom?

My little 'Hood'lum.